Azagoth: A Demonica Novella (1001 Dark Nights) Read online

  She inhaled sharply. “What do you know about that?”

  “Does it matter? If it makes you feel any better, I don’t give a shit what crimes you committed in the past. But let’s be clear on one thing; down here, you don’t fuck with me. So tell me, are you planning to escape using the chronoglass?”

  “That would be stupid. I’d be bringing Enforcers down on my head. I’d spend every minute looking over my shoulder for them. Eventually they’d find me and kill me.” She folded her arms over her chest and glared. “And don’t call me Angelcake.”

  “Enforcers won’t find you if you cut off your wings.” He ran his tongue over his teeth as if savoring the uncomfortable pause. “Angelcake.”

  Asshole. But the asshole was right. Any angel who cut off his or her wings became instantly undetectable to angelic senses. Any angel who would normally “feel” another angel’s presence under certain variable circumstances wouldn’t register her at all. Even face to face, an unobservant angel could very well believe the wingless angel was human.

  “I’m not cutting off my wings,” she assured him. “I hate pain, and seriously, why is this such a big deal anyway?”

  “It’s a big deal because you kept it from me for a reason. I want to know the reason. I don’t tolerate deception. I’d tell you to ask my last assistant about my low tolerance, but his soul is busy being tortured and buttfucked in the Inner Sanctum.” He laughed. “Buttfucked in the Sanctum. Get it?”

  Apparently, the males of all species remained children no matter how old they got. “I get it. Sanctum sounds like rectum.” She rolled her eyes. “So clever.”

  His smile remained, but his eyes were shards of ice. “Now, the truth. Why did you act like you barely knew what a chronoglass was while failing to tell me you could use it?” He snapped his fingers imperiously. “Let’s hear it. My patience is wearing thin.”

  If he snapped his fingers again, she was going to break them. “Maybe I just wanted something for myself,” she said. “I’m in a strange place, expected to mate with a strange male, and I have nothing of my own. Not even clothes, because somehow they’ve been delayed. So maybe I wanted an hour to myself now and then, outside of here.” She glared. “Jackass.”

  Even though she’d called him a jackass, the shards of ice in his gaze melted a little, just enough to dull the sharp edges. “I can...understand that.”

  Holy shit, he’d bought it? Then again, it was the truth. If there had been no hope of getting out of this deal by stealing the mirror, she’d have felt exactly as she’d just said.

  He stepped forward so suddenly she jumped. “Take me someplace.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He stepped closer, but if he thought he could intimidate her with his height, he was an idiot. She’d gone through battle training with males far taller and bigger than he was.

  None of those males, however, could hold a candle to Azagoth’s lethal elegance and oozing sensuality. It was as if he had been born for killing and sex. The battle angel in her could appreciate the former. The female in her definitely appreciated the latter. And the thing that sucked was that she shouldn’t be appreciating anything about him. He wasn’t exactly an enemy, but neither was he someone she could afford to get attached to.

  “Take me someplace,” he repeated.

  She tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “Ask nicely.”

  “Take me someplace...please.”

  “You could have at least made an attempt to make it not sound like an order.”

  Clenching his teeth, he ground out, “Will you please take me someplace.”

  Well, it wasn’t quite what she was hoping for, but she doubted it would get any better. Besides, she was ready to get out of here for a while. “Fine,” she said. “But you should know that I’ll have full use of my powers once I’m outside your realm.”

  One corner of his mouth twitched. “Should I consider that a warning?”

  “Just don’t be surprised if you find yourself riding a bolt of lightning if you piss me off.”

  “I’m into kinky shit, so that works.”

  He gripped her palm, and she sucked in a sharp breath at the shock of awareness that shot up her arm. She stole a glance at Azagoth, but apparently he hadn’t felt a thing, because he was as snarly-faced as ever.

  Well...good. They didn’t need to be having any kind of mutual “moments.”

  Although, really, it was a little insulting that he didn’t react. At all.

  Shoving aside her irrational annoyance, she reached deep inside for what angels in her field called the Triple T...the time travel tingle. Independent of her other, currently unusable, angelic powers, it started deep in her pelvis and spread outward, until it was as if she could actually feel time and space inside each and every cell. Now all she had to do was think of a specific time period...then a location...and there it was.

  Instead of reflecting their images, the chronoglass’s surface became a window, beyond which was an ocean of drifting desert sands.

  “Ready?” At Azagoth’s nod, she squeezed his hand tight and led him into the mirror.

  Instantly, dry heat blasted them as their feet sank into the hot sand. Releasing Azagoth, she glanced around at the scenery. It was exactly as she’d known it would be.

  Utterly desolate.

  She’d dropped them in the middle of the Egyptian desert, where there was nothing but rolling dunes of sand. Only the cloudless azure sky added color to an otherwise monotonous field of beige.

  Take that, Azagoth. He’d wanted to go somewhere outside of Sheoul-gra, so she’d brought him to the most boring, featureless environment she could think of.

  Feeling smug, she pivoted around so she could soak in his disappointment.

  Turned out, she was the one in for a letdown. Azagoth’s eyes were closed, his face tilted toward the sun.

  “Egypt,” he sighed. “Damn, I miss the desert.” Inhaling deeply, he smiled.

  She gaped. “Seriously? You like this?”

  “I miss...warmth.” Gripping his collar, he yanked, ripping his shirt and popping buttons with such force that one pinged her in the forehead. “And the breeze...ah, damn, I miss the breeze.”

  He flung his ruined shirt to the ground, and good Lord, he was ripped. Muscles flexed under smooth, bronzed skin and made the multitude of incredibly lifelike tattoos plastered on his chest dance. She let her gaze rove hungrily over him, committing his body to memory, because she had a feeling no male would ever match Azagoth’s savage beauty again.

  He came off as detached and calm, but his ruthlessness as one of Heaven’s most decorated and successful Interrogators was well documented. Humans, demons, and fellow angels alike died at his hand, but not before they endured a lot of pain.

  Azagoth’s skill with his hands extended to females as well, but instead of agony, they felt pleasure. His bedroom exploits were legendary, and now all Lilliana could do was wonder how many females had let their fingers play along the lines of the serpent tattoo that curled around his left pec. How many had dragged their tongues down the hilt of the sword on his breastbone, all the way beyond where the blade disappeared under his waistband. And how could Lilliana possibly touch him in ways no one else had?

  Not that there would be any touching.

  He kicked off his shoes and socks, tossing them aside without any care at all. Which made her wonder where he got his clothes. She hadn’t noticed a bustling shopping mall in any of Sheoul-gra’s outer buildings.

  “What year is it?” he asked as he walked in circles, his gaze now transfixed on his toes sifting through the sand.

  “I don’t know exactly.” She watched him bend over to scoop up some sand, and her mouth went as dry as the desert air at the way his slacks hugged his fine ass. Swallowing against the dryness, she continued. “I haven’t been doing this long enough to aim for specific dates, or even specific years. I can usually get myself within a decade of my goal, though.”

  “A decade?” He straightened. �
��How long have you been doing this?”

  She smiled wryly. “Why don’t you tell me, since you know so much about me.” When he said nothing, just looked up at the sky like he’d never seen it before, she went ahead and humored him. “Almost four hundred years.”

  Pivoting around, he looked her up and down the way a prospective buyer would examine a horse. “Sounds like a long time to still be off by ten years. Are you a slow learner?”

  She stared, speechless for a second. “Am I a slow learner?” she practically sputtered. “I’m far ahead of most time travelers by this age, you arrogant ass.”

  “Huh. If your accuracy is that bad now, I’d hate to have seen you when you first started. You want to see the Battle of Gettysburg but find yourself running from dinosaurs. That would suck.”

  “It happens,” she snapped. Because something similar had happened to her. But instead of the Battle of Gettysburg and dinosaurs, it had been the Battle of Almansa and saber-toothed cats. The worst part of it was that animals often could see angels inside the shrowd.

  And it turned out that saber-toothed cats were freaking mean.

  He laughed and slogged through the sand, his elation putting a severe damper on her exasperation. “Come on.” He made a follow me gesture. “Let’s walk.”

  “Are you kidding me?” She threw her hands up in the air. “There’s nowhere to walk to. The nearest human settlement is a hundred miles away.”

  “So? Would you rather just stand here?”

  She glanced longingly over her shoulder at Azagoth’s library, visible through the rectangle portal that would allow them to go back at any time.

  “Fine,” she muttered as she jogged to catch up.

  She supposed she could understand why Azagoth would want to stay in this giant cat litter box, given that he’d been shrouded in darkness for thousands of years. And really, it said something about him that he wasn’t angry that the first place she’d brought him was the middle of nowhere. If anything, he was excited.

  Even now, he was walking with his face to the sun, his arms outstretched, as if he was giving the desert a big hug. His hair, which had been perfectly combed before, was mussed by the breeze, and a hint of a smile gave him an irresistibly boyish appeal.

  He looked over at her when she caught up, and his smile turned downright dangerous. Oh, not dangerous in the deadly sense. Dangerous in the, I want to be flat on my back on a mattress with you, sense.

  Abruptly, he came to a halt.

  Startled, she did the same. “What’s wrong—”

  Azagoth spun her, silencing her with his mouth on hers. Stunned, she stood there like a dolt, her heart pounding so hard she felt her heartbeat in her lips where they were mashed against his. One big hand came around to tangle in her hair as Azagoth deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue along the seam of her mouth, tasting and testing until she felt her body sway against him.

  Yes, definitely dangerous...

  “Thank you,” he murmured against her lips.

  And then he was walking again, leaving her standing in the sand, knees weak and her insides quaking with the kind of arousal she hadn’t felt in...well, ever. And he was sauntering away as if that kiss, brief as it was, hadn’t affected him at all.

  Muttering obscenities to herself...on the loud side, so he’d hear, she tagged along as he tread lightly across the endless expanse of desert, stopping every once in a while to just look up at the sky or gaze out over the sand.

  It seemed like they’d only been wandering for a few minutes when the telltale pressure started in her chest. Their hour was coming up.

  “It’s time,” she said.

  Azagoth cranked his head around to peg her with his intense gaze. “For what?”

  A gust of wind blasted sand in her face, and she had to spit out the grit before she could speak. “To go.”

  The light that had been sparkling in his eyes snuffed out. “So soon?”

  “Soon? I don’t know about you, but I could use a glass of something very wet and icy.”

  “I could go for something wet,” he drawled, and oh, damn, the places her mind took that.

  Pretending she hadn’t heard a word, she reached for him. “I think the chronoglass will automatically suck both of us back into it, but to be safe, give me your hand.”

  For just a second, he hesitated, as if he wouldn’t mind being stuck here, but in the end, he reluctantly took her hand. Instantly, the same warm awareness as earlier shot through her body, and just like before, Azagoth showed no hint that he felt anything at all.

  Closing her eyes, she let her senses drift as the time travel pull made every cell in her body vibrate. The buzz grew more intense, until it felt as if she was being torn apart...and a moment later, they were back where they started, standing in front of the mirror, staring at their own reflections.

  Azagoth looked at the shimmering surface, and she wondered if he saw the same sadness in his eyes that she did.

  “Azagoth?” she said quietly. “What’s wrong?”

  All around her, the air crackled with a coming storm. “I have to go.” His voice was little more than an inhuman drawl, steeped in rage and pain and a few other emotions she couldn’t identify.

  And then he was bolting out of the library, leaving her confused and alone.

  The strange thing—besides his behavior—was that she was used to being alone. She was okay with it, had learned at an early age to rely only on herself and to be okay with her own company.

  But for the first time in her life, she didn’t like her own company.

  And there was no way in hell that she wanted to analyze the reasons for that.

  Chapter Six

  Azagoth got the fuck out of the room. Away from Lilliana. Away from the female who had given him the gift of stepping outside of his realm for the first time in thousands of years. Who set his blood on fire when he’d taken her hand. And when he’d kissed her. Holy hellfire, today had been the best day he’d had in eons. Maybe in...ever.

  He could still feel the sand on his feet and between his toes as he hauled ass to his office. The halls were empty, which was good, because right now he didn’t trust himself not to disintegrate anyone who got in his way.

  He hit the door at a dead run and slammed it closed behind him. With a thought, he shut down the soul tunnel and went straight to the fireplace.

  The flames licked at his bare skin, but as usual, he felt nothing. How odd, given that the Egyptian sun had engulfed him in warmth.

  Trembling all over, he gripped the mantel so firmly that the stone beneath his fingers gave way. He’d leave one hell of a set of handprints once he got himself under control.

  But could he get himself under control? What the hell was happening to him? The moment he’d stepped from his library out into the desert and breathed the hot, dry air, something inside him had broken open, releasing a trickle of sensation he hadn’t been able to identify. It had been familiar, and yet foreign, maybe what humans called déjà vu. Whatever it was, it had been pure and pleasant, a kind of joy that wasn’t dependent on evil or violence or death.

  But the moment he’d rematerialized inside his library, the sensation had morphed into something much less pleasant, as if the river of emotion seeping out of the fissure had become polluted. Tainted in the way only malevolence could do.

  Hatred and pain and the desire to destroy something had overwhelmed him. He hadn’t been prepared for the onslaught of feelings, and now his body was shaking and cramping like he’d overdosed on some human designer drug.

  Closing his eyes, he made a futile attempt to corral his runaway emotions, to gather them up and stuff them back inside the icy tomb where they’d been interred for so long. He’d been such a fool to want to feel something again. How could he have forgotten that emotions were bad, bad things?

  He growled at the sound of a tap on the door. “Go away.”

  The door whispered open, and he gripped the mantel even harder as his wings writhed beneath his s
kin. His true form, the one that literally frightened the piss out of most demons, was itching to break out and rip something—or someone—apart.

  Soft footsteps padded inside, and he got a whiff of the warm citrus fragrance that was unique to Lilliana.

  Instant, embarrassing hard-on.

  Okay, so he couldn’t rip her to shreds, but dammit, he wasn’t ready to talk to anyone, let alone the female who had just drawn something from him he hadn’t felt in forever.

  This is your own damned fault. You wanted a mate, an angel who would warm you from the outside.

  Yeah, well, he hadn’t expected to be warmed from the inside too.

  “Do you not understand the words, go away?”

  He heard her drawn-out inhale, as if she was gathering her own temper. “You seemed upset. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m Azagoth, the Grim Fucking Reaper, king of my domain. Of course I’m okay.”

  “What, so the Great Azagoth doesn’t have feelings?” She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a stomp of her foot. “Is the Great Azagoth also so rude that he can’t talk to someone face to face?”

  Irritated now, he rounded on her. “I told you not to come in.”

  She stiffened, but instead of defending her actions as he expected, she inclined her head. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have barged in and demanded something of you when you clearly want to be alone.” Pivoting crisply, she started for the doorway.

  “Wait,” he blurted, his mouth operating independently from his brain. “I didn’t mean to be a bastard.”

  The words came out stilted and unfamiliar to his own ears. How long had it been since he’d apologized to anyone? Thousands of years, probably. No wonder he was so rusty.

  Lilliana turned around slowly. “What happened? You seemed so relaxed and happy when we were in the desert, like you were a normal person and not the Grim Reaper. Now you’re extra...reapy.” She cleared her throat. “Also, you’ve sprouted horns.”